Page 7

Chapter 6

Tyler

I think I’m avoiding my house, but not at the same time. Can that even be a thing? I linger in the mornings to have that cup of coffee with her and to see her, but then I’m gone for huge chunks of the day. I go work out, I go to Jonah’s, I go running, or I go fishing. I know we’re still in the learning-curve phase of navigating life around each other, but soon something’s got to give. I like being home. I like sitting on my couch and watching SportsCenter , and well, I don’t think that I mind being around her either. She’s generally quiet, and if I didn’t know she was staying with me, I wouldn’t really know she’s here at all.

“How’s it going?” Lance asks. I’m surprised he made it a week before calling.

I’m on my way back from going for a run. It’s hot as blazes out here this afternoon, but there’s always a slight breeze coming in off the water. Even if that breeze feels more like the hot air of a blow-dryer than that of a cool mountain spring.

“It’s going fine,” I tell him, knowing he wants to talk about Lily, but suddenly feeling like talking about her is wrong. She came to my house for some privacy and to figure things out. I don’t want to be gossiping about her, even to him.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s right. She was with him for a long time. You can give it to me straight, I can take it. How heartbroken is she?”

I think back over the few interactions we've had over the past week. I discovered she’s a morning person. She always has her headphones on, listens to music, and dances while she makes us coffee each morning. She likes to cook, and she cooks healthy. For some reason, I have cookbooks, and she’s gone through all of them, looking for recipes. She flagged a few for me to review and approve, and she’s made bread. She sits on her laptop a lot, gives me sass whenever I’m around, and other than that one time I brought in the donuts and found her visibly upset on her phone, she’s been pretty good.

“Honestly, I don’t think she’s heartbroken at all. She seems fine.”

I lift my shirt to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Granted, the shirt is damp too, but I learned the hard way about running outside without a shirt on. I’m recognizable, and not only did someone take photos of me and sell them but they took a video of me running too. The video was played in slow motion so viewers could watch my muscles bouncing. It wasn’t a terrible video, but I don’t want to be in the media for anything outside of football. Ever.

“Huh. Well, that’s good to hear. We were worried about her when she went radio silent in the mountains.”

She mentioned one morning that she had been in North Carolina for a few weeks, but she didn’t say what she was doing there. Just a stop along the way for her to figure out what’s next. Was she heartbroken then? She had to be, right? She just up and left him, imploded her life, and hid away in the mountains. Or maybe this was a long time coming. I don’t know. Perhaps I should ask her? Is she faking being okay around me, or is she really okay? Because now that he mentions it, I am a little surprised that she’s not more upset. I know how I was after Marissa, and she doesn’t seem that torn up at all.

“Tell me about that, how long was she there? Did she visit at all before heading south?”

“She stayed with our parents for a few days after she left Dean’s, and then she headed out. I get it, she needed room to breathe and wanted some time to figure out what’s next. I offered that she could stay with us, but life is loud in my house with my little tornadoes. I think she stayed at that mountain rental for two months. She probably would have stayed longer, but it was already rented for the Fourth of July, so she had to go. Has she said anything to you about what she’s thinking? Where she plans on going next? Lily is the craziest person I’ve ever known for planning. She’s organization on crack.”

She was there for two months? I guess that’s a decent enough amount of time to move on, but she was with him a long time.

And she’s type A?

I guess I can see that. From what I’ve seen around the house, she is very clean and organized. But then again, I asked her to be. She lines her shoes up outside in the garage, the groceries she’s had delivered are sorted and perfectly set together in the refrigerator, and other than a laptop charger she keeps on the end table next to the couch, no items of hers are lying around. She’s very clean or trying very hard to stay out of my way.

“No, she hasn’t said anything to me, but we haven’t talked a whole lot. Between babysitting for Jonah and ramping up for the first day of practice next week, I’ve been a little busy.”

First day of practice. I am grateful, I really am. There’s no job better in the world for me. I love football. But the season schedule can be tiring. Once we hit the gas, it doesn’t stop until it stops. For months.

On Mondays, we work out and have film. Tuesdays, if we’re lucky, we have that day off. Wednesdays are full workload days: workout, team meeting, offensive meeting, walk-through practice, and media. Thursdays are a repeat of Wednesday with even more media leading into the weekend. Fridays tend to be a bit shorter as we’re with the trainers doing body work and physical therapy. Saturdays are more film, meetings, captain meetings, offensive meetings, and last-minute tweaks and walk-throughs. Sunday is game day.

Rinse. Wash. Repeat. For weeks. Make that months.

“Is she staying out of the way?”

I get why he’s worried. The whole “no roommate” mantra that I live by, but it really hasn’t been that bad.

“Lance, she’s fine. Other than seeing her in the morning for a cup of coffee, and occasionally for dinner, I don’t really notice that she’s there.”

“You’re drinking coffee?”

When Lance and I started college, we thought we’d do as grown-ups do and drink coffee. In hindsight, I realize we probably shouldn’t have been drinking it as much as we were or in the afternoon because my sleep schedule was thrown off, my heart was constantly racing, which wasn’t good on the practice field, and I would have to go to the bathroom at the most random times. Things vastly improved for me when I stopped drinking it. Although this time around hasn’t been so bad.

“She makes it for me. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

He chuckles. “Hurt her feelings? Since when do you care about something like that?”

“What are you talking about? I’m a nice guy, you dick. Especially to your little sister who you handed off to me.”

I have had to remind myself that she’s Lance’s little sister more than once this week. Even though there’s nothing little about her. She’s killing me with the clothes she wears. I get it, she’s at home and they’re probably comfortable, but every morning, I walk into the kitchen and find her in the tightest, shortest shorts ever, and her ass looks damn good in them. Add in the hair, which was down and all over the place today and her blue eyes when they land on me, and I have to chant our team stats to keep myself under control. It’s just not fair how beautiful she is first thing in the morning.

Which again has me thinking of Dean. He had her every day and let her walk out the door. What a dumbass.

“Yeah, and I really do appreciate it. Eight years to be with someone is a long time. Casey and I have been together for nine years. I can’t imagine what life would be like without her.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I tell him as I start the ascent over the bridge that leads to the islands. The view here is one of my favorites in the city. On one side, you can see downtown, the Gasparilla pirate ship they keep docked just a few feet away, the convention center, and Harbour Island, and then on the other side is Bayshore Boulevard. Bayshore is lined with large historic homes, and the sidewalk is America's second-longest continuous sidewalk. It wraps around Tampa Bay, and the water never fails to give me a sense of relief if I need it or peace.

“Don’t you think it’s time you find out. You’ve been single long enough, and you’re not getting any younger.”

“Thanks for that.” I chuckle.

“But not with my sister,” he says.

“Bro,” I all but growl at him.

“I know. I know. I don’t even know why I said that. It just feels like something a big brother would say.” In the background, I can hear his oldest son yelling about something. Do I sometimes feel envious of what he has? Of course. But not enough to go out and do anything about it.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I tell him, but my mind drifts back to the beautiful woman in my house. She used to 100 percent feel like his sister, but now, for some reason, she doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s because she was younger, or that she’s always been with Dean and off-limits, or if, in general, I just never looked at her in any way other than someone in Lance’s family, but somehow, over the past ten days or so, something feels different, and I can’t put my finger on it.

Speaking of finger. When she asked if we should shake on the house rules, there was no way I was slipping her hand into mine. There needs to be no touching at all. Maybe that should have been rule number one. But then she switched to a pinky, and I didn’t want to be rude or hurt her feelings, so I caved. Of course, there was a shock of static. I could have laughed at the audacity of the universe, but instead, I marveled at how small and soft her finger was. Something I definitely don’t need to be doing.

“I know. Not that it matters anyway. Don’t mention this to Lily, she’s always done what she wants—I mean, look at how long she was with that fucktard—but just to spite me, she might try to sway you.”

Try to sway me? I ponder this for a second and wonder if I could be swayed. And then decide no. Crossing any line with her would complicate things in a way I don’t need right now or ever. Plus, I’m not a rebound for anyone.

“Something tells me that nothing she does is because of you.”

“You don’t have any siblings, so you don’t understand. It’s like the sheer goal in life for the younger sibling is to piss off the older as much as possible.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Just wait, you’ll see.”

See what? That he thinks she’s actually going to make a pass at me is ridiculous. We’re grown adults. Adults who have no problem with self-control.

At least I don’t.